Feuds of Fiction
by friendly felix
Summary: Fueled by her strained relationship with Sam, Casey becomes a romance novel enthusiast. Derek is just being Derek. This culminates in a massive fight. Much to their chagrin, George and Nora insist upon joint counseling. Will they ever learn to get along?
1. Initial Confrontation

AN: My first LWD fic. Please review and tell me what you think!

_Marie-Therese Sinclair was a true Englishwoman. With this, however, came her father's intense loathing for the French. Marie-Therese's heart ached as she stared at her rather erstwhile lover, Pierre Claude Rousseau, who had stolen away in the dead of night just so he could lay his eyes on her beautiful face. _

_She had a face that could launch a thousand ships, Pierre Claude often proclaimed of Marie-Therese. This famous quote no doubt came from the legend of Helen of Troy, the Spartan queen who was supposedly the most beautiful woman in the world. _

_This proved quite inaccurate, however, because Marie-Therese's beauty no doubt exceeded that of the legendary queen. Her forest green eyes glowed especially during times of mirth or ire. Her deep brown, nearly black locks fell in alluring curls and ringlets about her face, accentuating her cheekbones.. Her smile was like a summer's day, and her slim, tall figure with abundant curves in all the right places made her irresistible to men. _

_Pierre Claude quickly scampered up the ladder and swept Marie-Therese into his arms. Marie-Therese swooned at the slight of Pierre's handsome good looks. He had thick, lush, wavy black hair that framed his face perfectly, dark blue eyes topped with slashing black brows, and a chiseled chin. His body was toned and roped wish muscle from hours of requisite fencing practice and horseback riding. _

"_My love," Pierre Claude whispered to her huskily. "It seems like hours since I have seen you last. Weeks since I have touched your silky hair. An eternity since I have gazed into your eyes." _

"_Oh, Pierre," Marie-Therese responded, her jade eyes drinking in every detail of Pierre Claude's face. "You can't be seen here. My father would have your head!" _

"_I would gladly sacrifice my head, my love," Pierre murmured, dipping his face closer to hers, "if only I had your love." With that, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss while simultaneously carrying her to her bed. On it he deposited her safely, and with that he—_

"Now what is young Casey here reading?"

With those words, the book was plucked neatly out of her hands. Derek plopped himself on his brown recliner with the book, keeping it just out of her reach. He snorted at what he read.

"'He thrust his manhood against her femininity?' What are they doing, bumping chromosomes? "

"Very good, Derek, I didn't know that you knew what 'chromosomes meant," Casey responded irately, acting as if she hadn't just been caught reading a sex scene in a trashy novel.

"Oh, it may be surprising, my friend," Derek said with his typical smirk. "But I, for one, didn't know that my dear, innocent, socially demented stepsister liked to read 'bodice rippers'." At this point he made little quote marks in the air with the hand not holding the book.

"Oh, please," Casey returned hotly. "I bet it doesn't even say the phrase 'bodice rippers' in there. Show me one place where it mentions the ripping of a bodice."

"Gladly." Derek scanned the book briefly. His eyes lit up and he read aloud, "'Eyes glinting in anticipation, Pierre Claude neatly ripped open the bodice of Marie-Therese's dress. His hands immediately— '"

"Okay, stop!" Casey exclaimed, hurling a pillow at Derek's head just as Lizzie and Edwin walked into the room, closely followed by Marti.

"Who's ripping bodices?" Lizzie asked innocently, unaware of the conversation that had been going on prior to their arrival.

Derek didn't miss a beat. "Marie-Theresa and Pierre Claude."

Casey was not amused. "It's Marie-Therese, not Marie-Theresa. And it's Pierre Claude, not Pierre Clod," she said, a little self-righteously for someone with questionable taste in literature, in Derek's opinion.

"What? Who's that?" Edwin asked. Clearly this conversation was lost on him. Still, Derek didn't pass up the opportunity to sell Casey out. "The characters in the book Casey's reading."

"A book?" Edwin asked. "What's it about?"

Derek grinned. "Here's the kicker. Casey's book...is about—

"Derek, stop," Casey ordered, making sure she kicked him the she shin as hard as she could. Unfortunately, Derek had sustained much worse hockey injuries, and the kick didn't distract from his plan in the least.

"Sex."

Lizzie and Edwin seemed simultaneously struck dumb. In fact, the first one of Edwin, Lizzie, Marti, and Casey to recover was Marti, who put her disgust across by screeching. "SEX? EW!" at the top of her six-year-old lungs.

"Marti, shh!" Casey said hastily, but George had already meandered into the room. "Why is my daughter talking about sex?" he asked suspiciously, eying the erstwhile children, especially the two oldest, who were looking a little guilty right about now.

He reconsidered for a moment. What made him automatically assumed that Casey and Derek were at fault? The answer was quick to come. ...It _was _Casey and Derek.

"What did you two do?" he demanded, picking up Marti and leaning affectionately into Nora, who had come up beside them. "And what is that book you're holding, Derek?"

Casey began to stammer, but it was Derek who replied. "Just summer reading, Dad."

George looked at his askance. "It's been less than a week since school closed. Do you really expect me to believe that you're doing summer reading already? Casey hasn't even started."

Casey cleared her throat. "Actually, uh, I finished mine." She had the grace to blush when everybody in the room gave her a bemused look. She rose abruptly and stood next to Derek, fully obscuring the book from George and Nora's view.

George put Marti down and held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not even gonna go there." He filed out of the room, everyone else but Derek and Casey following.

Casey threw herself back on the couch, but Derek remained standing. He tossed the romance novel on Casey's stomach and smirked at her. With that, he bounded up the stairs and into his room, laughing to himself on the way.

Trust Derek to get a kick out of her mortification. As Casey settled back on the couch to continue reading, she couldn't help but get the sense that this was not going to be their last confrontation on the subject.

TBC.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	2. And the Snark Continues

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! Oh, and by the way, this isn't a Dasey. Unless its very tastefully done, stepsibling romance is really weird and creepy, and the vast majority of the Dasey on this site seems to be more of the hook-up-out-of-the-blue variety. Besides, the whole concept kind of skeeves me out. I mean, they're stepsiblings. But if you feel differently, I respect your opinion.

_Alonzo Ramirez had never loved anyone the way he loved Adia Littlebear. But the strict laws forbidding their relationship promised death if he dared pursue her. Yet he found himself yearning for the part-Native American, part-Spanish girl's tender touch. Each time he closed his eyes he pictured her straight but unruly chestnut hair that fell in thick sheets down her back fanned out on his pillow. It seemed as if her hazel eyes were always watching him. _

_Alonzo found himself tossing and turning at night, his thoughts and words turning into the disjointed ramblings of a man in love. He often found himself—_

For the second time in two days, Casey found her book pulled rudely out of her hands. Derek settled down in his recliner again, holding the book in one hand while cushioning his head with the other.

"Oh, déjà vu," Casey grumbled irritably.

"Alonzo?" Derek murmured incredulously. "What a tool."

"You don't even know him!" Casey protested. "A person's name isn't indicative of their personality, Derek. If it was, your name would be 'Asshole'." She smiled, pleased with her insult.

"Haha. And if that was true of you, your name would be 'Shutthefuckup'," Derek muttered, unconcerned with her words.

"My life was so simple before we moved in here," Casey began, feeling angry all over again.

"This Adia girl sounds hot..."

"Unfettered by stress, I existed in relative peace—,"

Derek settled back in his chair and tossed the book at Casey.

"You're pathetic."

Casey, rudely shaken out of her tirade, fixated a deadly glare on her stepbrother.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, her eyes daring him to say it again.

"I said," Derek responded, unfazed, "you're pathetic. You sit around reading these pathetic novels and live vicariously through these pathetic characters while feeling sorry for your pathetic self because your life is, quite frankly, pathetic."

Casey wasn't sure whether to be stunned that he had accurately described what she was doing, or that he had used the word 'vicariously' in the right context.

'When had Derek turned into some unsolicited-analyzing, large-world-using spawn of Satan?' she wondered. Well, he always had been the spawn of Satan, she corrected herself, mentally apologizing to George.

"Is there any reason for this verbal attack?" she wondered aloud, wondering if she had been catapulted into some weird, alternate reality Twilight Zone type of situation.

"Other than the fact that I find insulting you very satisfying?" Derek asked by way of response. "Only that it's true."

Casey's bafflement quickly gave way to fury. "Stop analyzing me, you disgusting jerk!"

"Sorry for trying to help you admit that your life sucks, especially since you seem to be living on a fun planet called denial."

The fact that he was saying all of this in an unconcerned manner while watching a hockey game on mute only made Casey madder.

"My life does not suck!"

A smirk. "Oh, yes it does."

Damn him. "I know," she sighed. "It does."

"Problems with you and Sam?" Derek asked. Was that a note of sympathy in his voice? Casey was flabbergasted.

"Well, yeah. We're not communicating as well anymore. We just don't seem to talk. I really don't get it. We used to be so close. Has he said anything to you?"

Derek spared her a wry glance. "No. But even if he did, I wouldn't tell you. I told you two that I would tolerate the two of you dating. Not once did I mention that I would offer any support or guidance. In fact, the fact that you're fighting makes me, well, quite satisfied."

Casey was appalled. "We are NOT fighting!"

Derek actually rolled his eyes at her. "Fine, fine, continue to delude yourself."

"What makes you think we're fighting and/or have any serious problems that can't be fixed?" Casey demanded, trying to imagine launching herself at Derek and gouging his eyes out. The thought was a very pleasant one, and she barely suppressed a sigh of contentment.

"You sit around all day reading these trashy romance books while cramming chocolate down your throat. You also blast 'No Scrubs' by TLC on your stereo at night. I'd say that's a pretty good indicator," Derek countered.

"That's not true!" Casey insisted. "I don't even like chocolate."

"Ha. Why you aren't obese is beyond me."

"I really don't! I hate chocolate! And I do _not_ listen to 'No Scrubs' every night!"

"Whatever you say."

His obvious nonchalance was maddening.

"You are such a pig! How do girls stand you?" Casey demanded, shoving her blanket and pillows to the ground in abject rage.

Derek had the gall to actually _shrug_ at her. "Great personal charm?"

"Ha!" Casey exclaimed. "You wouldn't know personal charm if it slapped you across the face."

Derek looked mildly peeved. "Hmm, which one of us is in a rocky relationship right now?" he asked himself out loud. "Oh, yeah, that would be _you._"

"NOW LISTEN TO _ME, _YOU JERK—

Nora barreled into the room. "Casey, why on Earth are you shouting?"

Casey was aghast. How was it possible that she was the one getting the blame?

"Mom! It wasn't my fault, it was Derek—

Nora turned to Derek, who immediately assumed his most innocent expression. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Derek, what did you do?"

Derek looked wounded. "Why does everyone blame it on me?" he demanded of his stepmother. "I mean, I know Casey's the 'Golden Child', but do you ever think about the unnecessary stress you're putting on me by assuming that I'm responsible for all your problems?"

Casey snorted at his obvious bullshit, but Nora, shockingly, looked convinced.

Nora turned to Casey. "Honey..."

"What!" Casey exclaimed. "What did _I_ do?" Apparently shouting wasn't the best course of action, because Nora began to look extremely annoyed. "Casey, you can't blame your brother for everything."

A "hmph!" came from Derek's general direction.

Casey wanted to scream, but she didn't even want to think about how her mom would react to that, so she wisely kept her mouth shut.

"GERONIMO!" came Edwin's voice, followed by Lizzie's scream and Marti's peals of laughter. Nora sighed. "Look, I have to go handle those three. Will you two— will you just try to get along?"

Derek eyed her disbelievingly. "I make no promises."

Nora threw her hands in the air and strode out of the room. Casey turned to him in annoyance. "Honestly, Derek, do you _ever_ do _anything_ to help anybody else?"

Derek snorted in contempt. "No, I _never_ have," he mimicked. "And somehow I doubt that I'll start just because my house has been overrun by overly hormonal, sensitive females whose sole purpose in life is to bother me, and of course, populate the planet. Especially you, woman."

"You are disgusting! I have never met a bigger chauvinist pig than you!"

Derek sneered. "I'm honored."

"You know what? Just leave me alone, and don't talk to me." Casey returned to reading the book with even more fervor. She couldn't summon her long gone enthusiasm, however, and she found herself staring viciously at Derek, wishing he would spontaneously combust or do something else to rid himself from her sight.

"Fine by me."

Casey, in a spirited display of anger, hurled the remote at Derek's head. He caught it with relative ease and she growled with frustration. Tomorrow, she resolved, tomorrow she would get her revenge.

TBC.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.


End file.
